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From: Jim Wilkes <bilk24@yahoo.com> Subject: T-38's FLOWN THOUGH HAIL--non FAC Guys, A perfect example of why you shouldn't fly into a KNOWN thunderstorm--but that doesn't make sense(the known) since I was in the CLEAR out over the Gulf,going to the Tampa tacan and then over to the Cape,giving a final instrument check to a student in1969 or early 70, when lightining struck my T-38, burning a hole through the right wing tip(entry)and the tail,then fused/melted the nav aides being used by the stud under the hood in the backseat,knocking the wind out of us both,burning both of my elbows which were resting on the canopy rails and then exiting the left wing tip, burning a sizeable chunk of it off. When we finally landed at the Cape,NASA wasn't able to do any repairs(was late on a Friday afternoon). Since the plane seemed stable and flew ok and the Nav aides/radios all still worked in the front cockpit,the Wing CO at Moody, after talking with ATC Safety people,gave me permission to fly back to Moody at low level so off we go,the stud and I. Come to think of it,that might have been then 2/Lt George W. Bush's class since I also gave him his final instrument check about that time,flying virtually the same route. Not quite as stupid though as my taking off late at early dark from LZ Sally in 68 to take my trusty O-1 to Danang(about a 50 minute flight) for repairs. The mags were malfunctioning with only the #2 mag working and a flat tire on the left side that had been shot out and since we had no spares,my CC/radio operators had stuffed the tire with sandbags and wrapped it in masking(???) tape to resemble the shape of a pumped up tire and off I go. What was that that one of you said about us being stupid when we were young and bullet proof ?????? Anyway,the Navy also makes boo-boos as these pictures verify. Jim Bilk 24 Subject: Non FAC _ T-38 and Hail In the early 50s at Willie we had a person who spoke with some authority who's philosophy was close to this: We are an all weather Air Force. Nothing deters us. We do not fly around thunderstorms we fly through them!! OK, I was still a wet behind the ears Captain and had an honest go at thunderstorm penetrarion. (Had I been a scardy cat Major or Ll Col I would of course never have tried tried it) Ahem. Although, I escaped without structural damage, I did do significant damage to my resolve (I won't bore you with the details) and soon decided I was not the Macho thunderstorm penetrator type. Its interesting, because early on in my career I flew through a line of thunderstorms in a B-17 and again escaped structural damabe. Not so for other aircraft flying the same route. Some had pretty good wing damage and at least one had the plexi glass nose severly damaged. Maybe my early decision that we were flying in a line of thunderstorms and doing a right 90 degree turn till I was out of them and then proceeding on course was my savior. "Again that little man that sits on my shoulder!! Don't mess with it. Gene Mc Cutchan An Aviation Story This is a good little story about a vivid memory of a P-51 and it's pilot by a fellow when he was 12 years old in Canada in 1967. Some of you may know a few others who would appreciate it. It was noon on a Sunday as I recall, the day a Mustang P-51 was to take to the air. They said it had flown in during the night from some US airport, the pilot had been tired. I marveled at the size of the plane dwarfing the Pipers and Canucks tied down by her, it was much larger than in the movies. She glistened in the sun like a bulwark of security from days gone by. The pilot arrived by cab paid the driver then stepped into the flight lounge. He was an older man, his wavy hair was grey and tossed . . . looked like it might have been combed, . . say, around the turn of the century. His bomber jacket was checked, creased, and worn, it smelled old and genuine. Old Glory was prominently sewn to its shoulders. He projected a quiet air of proficiency and pride devoid of arrogance. He filed a quick flight plan to Montreal (Expo-67, Air Show) then walked across the tarmac. After taking several minutes to perform his walk-around check the pilot returned to the flight lounge to ask if anyone would be available to stand by with fire extinguishers while he "flashed the old bird up . . . just to be safe." Though only 12 at the time I was allowed to stand by with an extinguisher after brief instruction on its use -- "If you see a fire point then pull this lever!" I later became a firefighter, but that's another story. The air around the exhaust manifolds shimmered like a mirror from fuel fumes as the huge prop started to rotate. One manifold, then another, and yet another barked -- I stepped back with the others. In moments the Packard-built Merlin engine came to life with a thunderous roar, blue flames knifed from her manifolds. I looked at the others' face s, there was no concern. I lowered the bell of my extinguisher. One of the guys signaled to walk back to the lounge, we did. Several minutes later we could hear the pilot doing his pre flight run-up. He'd taxied to the end of runway 19, out of sight. All went quiet for several seconds, we raced from the lounge to the second story deck to see if we could catch a glimpse of the P-51 as she started down the runway, we could not. There we stood, eyes fixed to a spot half way down 19. Then a roar ripped across the field, much louder than before, like a furious hell spawn set loose---something mighty this way was coming. "Listen to that thing!" Said the controller. In seconds the Mustang burst into our line of sight. Its tail was already off and it was moving faster than anything I'd ever seen by that point on 19. Two thirds the way down 19 the Mustang was airborne with her gear going up. The prop tips were supersonic; we clasped our ears as the Mustang climbed hellish fast into the circuit to be eaten up by the dog-day haze. We stood for a few moments in stunned silence trying to digest what we'd just seen. The radio controller rushed by me to the radio. "Kingston tower calling Mustang?" He looked back to us as he waited for an acknowledgment. The radio crackled, "Go ahead Kingston." "Roger Mustang. Kingston tower would like to advise the circuit is clear for a low level pass." I stood in shock because the controller had, more or less, just asked the pilot to return for an impromptu air show! The controller looked at us. "What?" He asked. "I can't let that guy go without asking . . . I couldn't forgive myself!" The radio crackled once again, "Kingston, do I have permission for a low level pass, east to west, across the field?" "Roger Mustang, the circuit is clear for an east to west pass." "Roger, Kingston, I'm coming out of 3000 feet, stand by." We rushed back onto the second-story deck, eyes fixed toward the eastern haze. The sound was subtle at first, a high-pitched whine, a muffled screech, a distant scream. Moments later the P-51 burst through the haze . . her airframe straining against positive Gs and gravity, wing tips spilling contrails of condensed air, prop-tips again supersonic as the burnished bird blasted across the eastern margin of the field shredding and tearing the air. At about 400 mph and 150 yards from where we stood she passed with an old American pilot saluting . . imagine . . . a salute. I felt like laughing, I felt like crying, she glistened, she screamed, the building shook, my heart pounded . . . then the old pilot pulled her up . . . and rolled, and rolled, and rolled out of sight into the broken clouds and indelibly into my memory. I've never wanted to be an American more than on that day. It was a time when many nations in the world looked to America as their big brother, a steady and even-handed beacon of security who navigated difficult political water with grace and style; not unlike the pilot who'd just flown into my memory. He was proud, not arrogant, humble, not a braggart, old and honest projecting an aura of America at its best. That America will return one day, I know it will. Until that time, I'll just send off a story; call it a reciprocal salute, to the old American pilot who wove a memory for a young Canadian that's stayed a lifetime. ALL ABOUT FLYING! No matter what else happens, fly the airplane. Forget all that stuff about thrust and drag, lift and gravity; an airplane flies because of money. It's better to be down here wishing you were up there, than up there wishing you were down here. If you're ever faced with a forced landing at night, turn on the landing lights to see the landing area. If you don't like what you see, turn' em back off. A check ride ought to be like a skirt, short enough to be interesting but still be long enough to cover everything. Speed is life, altitude is life insurance. No one has ever collided with the sky! Always remember you fly an airplane with your head, not your hands. Never let an airplane take you somewhere your brain didn't get to Five minutes earlier. "Unskilled" pilots are always found in the wreckage with their hand around the microphone. If you push the stick forward, the houses get bigger; if you pull the stick back, they get smaller. (Unless you keep pulling the stick back-then they get bigger again.) Hovering is for pilots who love to fly but have no place to go. The only time you have too much fuel is when you're on fire. Flying is the second greatest thrill known to man. Landing is the first! Everyone already knows the definition of a 'good' landing is one from which you can walk away. But very few know the definition of a 'great' landing. It's one after which you can use the airplane another time. The probability of survival is equal to the angle of arrival. IFR: I Follow Roads. You know you've landed with the wheels up when it takes full power to taxi. Those who hoot with the owls by night should not fly with the eagles by day. A helicopter is a collection of rotating parts going round and round and reciprocating parts going up and down - all of them trying to become random in motion. Helicopters can't really fly - they're just so ugly that the earth immediately repels them. A helicopter is a mass collection of parts flying in close formation. Pilots believe in clean living. They never drink whiskey from a dirty glass. Things which do you no good in aviation: Altitude above you. Runway behind you. Fuel in the truck. Half a second ago. Approach plates in the car. The airspeed you don't have. If God meant man to fly, He'd have given him more money or a ticket on United. Flying is not dangerous; crashing is dangerous. A good simulator check ride is like successful surgery on a corpse. Asking what a pilot thinks about the FAA is like asking a tree what it thinks about dogs. Trust your captain but keep your seat belt securely fastened. The difference between a co-pilot and a jet engine is the engine quicks whining at the gate. An airplane may disappoint a good pilot, but it won't surprise him. Any pilot who relies on a terminal forecast can be sold the Brooklyn Bridge. If he relies on winds-aloft reports he can be sold Niagara Falls. The friendliest flight attendants are those on the trip home. Good judgment comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgment. Being an airline pilot would be great if you didn't have to go on all those trips. Aviation is not so much a profession as it is a disease. The nicer an airplane looks, the better it flies. There are three simple rules for making a smooth landing. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are. It's a good landing if you can still get the doors open. Passengers prefer old captains and young flight attendants. The only thing worse than a captain who never flew as copilot is a copilot who once was a captain. It's best to keep the pointed end going forward as much as possible. If an earthquake suddenly opened a fissure in a runway that caused accident, the FAA would find a way to blame it on pilot error. Any attempt to stretch fuel is guaranteed to increase headwind. A thunderstorm is never as bad on the inside as it appears on the outside. It's worse. It's easy to make a small fortune in aviation. You start with a large fortune. A male pilot is a confused soul who talks about women when he's flying, and about flying when he's with a woman! . A fool and his money are soon flying more airplane than he can handle. The last thing every pilot does before leaving the aircraft after making a gear up landing is to put the gear selection lever in the 'down' position. There is always enough power on the second engine to take you to the crash site. Try to keep the number of your landings equal to the number of your takeoffs. Takeoffs are optional. Landings are mandatory. You cannot propel yourself forward by patting yourself on the back. The difference between a fighter pilot & a pig? A pig doesn't sit at a bar until 0300 waiting to pick up a fighter pilot. My favorite is: "Hi, I am from the FAA and I am here to help you". [This message contained attachments]
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